Stuck With Interpol
by Ardnexia
Summary: Cassandra LaBelle is sick and tired of her sexist coworkers at the Interpol headquarters in Lyon. So when when her best friend Maximilian Brisbois, a deaf scientist, volunteers to go to New York to help with the Stark case, how can she resist going as well? Set in the beginning of the second episode.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter I – Introduction

_Carter_

Peggy tapped her foot impatiently, checking her watch. They were forty-seven minutes late, and she had been waiting twice as long. Finally, a small Cessna came into view. It put down just a ways away, and a relieved Peggy began making her way towards it. A door popped open and, to her surprise, a young lady exited, quickly followed by a young man.

Peggy stopped and waited at the edge of the runway as they walked over, taking in their appearances. The girl had curly black hair styled short, topped by a burgundy beret. She wore a black double breasted jacket a simple black skirt, and a white blouse. The man had a thin beard and thick light brown hair. The girl turned, saying something to the man. He laughed quietly. Both seemed amiable enough, and they seemed to be friends already.

Peggy smiled politely, holding out her hand. "Peggy Carter, SSR. You must be the Interpol agents." The young lady shook her hand, then the man.

"Yes, hello. My name is Cassandra LaBelle, and this is my colleague, Maximilian Brisbois." Peggy noted the French accent and surnames. "We're from Lyon. I am terribly sorry about the delay. We ran into unexpected interference." Peggy frowned.

"What interference are you referring to?"

"We've had quite a bout of snow recently. It hit us as we were passing over Beauvais on our way to Le Touquet."

"I see. Well, having another woman around will be a nice change." She began the walk back to the car, and Cassandra hurried to catch up.

"You see, Interpol decided to hire a few women because of you, Mademoiselle Carter—"

"Agent Carter, please."

"—so it's actually thanks to you that I have my job. Please call me Agent Sandra, by the way. You can call my companion Max."

"Can Max not speak for himself?"

"He's rather introverted, and he prefers that I introduce him." Peggy opened the driver's door and slid in.

"Well, he'll have to start speaking at some point."

She started up the engine and Cassandra leaned forward. "I'm afraid it's a bit more difficult than you may think, Mademoiselle– I mean, Agent Carter. You see, Max is deaf." Peggy stopped what she was doing so that she could give them her full attention. "I see." Max looked at her innocently, obviously not knowing that they were talking about him. "He can read lips, I presume?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"He understood when you spoke to him when you were getting off the plane." Peggy smiled at Max. "I'm sure you'll feel right at home. The lab rats are quite friendly." As she turned back to the front she saw Max's confused and slightly worried face and smiled quietly.

* * *

_LaBelle_

Agent Thompson sat cross legged in a chair opposite from Max, awkwardly looking anywhere but at his face. Max had been watching him intensely for the last ten minutes to Sandra's amusement. 'Poor Agent Thompson. Max certainly loves to scrutinize people, even if others are uncomfortable because of it.' She thought.

The entire establishment was so different from how she was used to it. Things were much more serious in France, versus the craziness here. In France everyone had a cubicle, and when they needed to get up to speak to someone, they went up to them and sat down to talk. Here everybody was everywhere, and people were just chatting. At Interpol things were so busy everybody always had to be working, unlike here.

Cassandra yawned. She would have been in a much better mood if it was another day, but she had jet lag and was dehydrated, and so she felt simply foul. She checked her watch for the umpteenth time, and stifled a sigh. It had been two hours since they had arrived with Agent Carter. "Remind me, why can't we see Chief Dooley at the moment?"

Agent Thompson, blatantly relieved to have a reason to ignore Max, turned towards her. "Chief Dooley is watching an important interrogation at the moment." '_Somehow, I doubt that._' She thought

"Is this the interrogation room, Agent Thompson?" No response. "Agent Thompson, at this moment my friends are chasing after Stark. They could be dead, and not a second goes by that I don't think about that. In France we have a saying: On ne peut aider qui ne veut point écouter. He who will not be counseled can't be helped. You are the ones who called for aid, and if you refuse to allow us to help you, than we will not be able to do so. Quite frankly, I don't want to be here any more than you do. So if Chief Dooley is postponing seeing me, I suggest he thinks over what I just told you." Carter watched her with a steady gaze. "Chief Dooley will see you when he sees fit, Agent LaBelle."

"Well, while we have the time to go, I would like to use the restroom."

"Agent Yauch is just outside, he will escort you." Cassandra stood, ignoring the warning signs that Max was sending her. She opened the door and left the room. Agent Yauch stopped her quickly by placing a hand on her shoulder. "Miss, I can't allow you to leave."

"I have Agent Thompson's approval to do so. Ask him if you really care that much." Yauch frowned, and, keeping a hand firmly on her shoulder, he opened the door to do exactly that. Cassandra smirked, twisting his hand off her shoulder and stepping away, walking over to the next door over and opening it before Yauch could protest.

* * *

_Dooley_

Roger Dooley was rubbing his temples, disheartened. He had just finished looking over the paperwork for the Interpol agents, and he still wasn't sure that they were who they said they were. And why would Interpol send another woman? A headstrong one, at that.

Interpol was certainly taking this chance to dump all the useless agents into his department. A deaf man and a desk and field agent who was also a woman. The door swung open and he turned to yell at whoever it was, but stopped when he saw it was the woman, Agent LaBelle. "Ah, good." She said smartly, and sat herself down in one of the chairs, pulling a thin file out of nowhere and sliding it across the desk.

"A message from the president of Interpol, Florent Louwage of Belgium. It also contains my file and Maximilian Brisbois's, along with all the information we have on Stark, Howard."

"You mean Howard Stark?"

"That's what I said." Dooley gave her a final once over. "I'll look over them. In the mean time, Yauch will give you a tour." Cassandra nodded, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

Dooley sank into a chair, groaning, as Agent Sousa watched on. "I can't deal with Interpol too, Sousa." Sousa looked around awkwardly. "Well sir, you could–"

"I know. We'll partner her up with someone. She won't be able to do any harm that way." Sousa sat down next to him. "Who are you going to partner her with? She won't like being restricted, sir."

"I know," Dooley growled. "She seems… fierce. Match her up with someone who can't take a punch, and she'll get her way out of it quickly." Dooley nodded. "Of course, she'll hinder whoever she's working with, so someone who can work with that is also important. We need a combination of the two." A smile crept across his face. "I know just the man."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

_Thompson_

Thomson glared at Yauch. "Congratulations Agent Yauch. You fell for the oldest trick in the book." Yauch looked away. "I didn't think–"

"That's right, you didn't think." Thompson turned to Brisbois. "You come with me." The man stood warily, and Thompson held the door open for him. Brisbois walked outside, and Thompson let the door slam behind him.

Thompson noticed Agent LaBelle waiting by the door and paused. "What, are you waiting for a tour or something?"

"Actually, I am. Chief Dooley said you would give me one." Thompson glared at the door that Chief Dooley was still behind. "Fine. Come on. Doobin!" The head scientist stopped, nearly spilling coffee down Thompson's front.

"Yes, Agent Thompson?"

"This is your new colleague from Interpol, Maximilian Brisbois. Take good care of him." Thompson smirked slightly. The scientist nodded, shaking Brisbois's hand. "Come this way." Brisbois looked around, confused, "He's deaf," Agent Labelle supplied. "He can read lips, however, so just look at him when you talk to him."

Doobin nodded to her, smiling. "And who might this beautiful young lady-"

"I don't have time for this." Thompson growled, grabbing Agent LaBelle by the hand and dragging her away. "Pleased to meet you!" She managed to get out, before she was dragged away. She quickly shook Thompson off and turned to face him, arms crossed. "That was rude."

"This is a workplace, Agent LaBelle, not a bar for picking up women. He can do that in his own time, instead of wasting mine."

"I'm sorry if you think I am a waste of time, Agent Thompson, but unfortunately for you I am particularly grumpy today. So if you don't want to end up on the floor, you will keep your hands off of me and let me be. I've had to deal with rude men before, and I would be delighted to add you to the list. Doobin was very polite." Thompson was almost speechless. Did she think he had made a pass at her? She seemed to be more deluded than he had thought. "Now, where do you keep the guns? They wouldn't let me bring my own."

"Like weapons, do you?"

"Actually no. I find them… distasteful. But I want to stay safe. Even a fake pistol can go a long way when it comes to scaring people off. What about you Agent Thompson? You seem like a rather gung-ho person." Thompson looked away. "I don't mind them." He knew he wasn't convincing. "Come on, let's go." He strode past her, feelings as if all his insecurities had just been revealed.

* * *

To his surprise, Agent LaBelle had gone, not for a taser or pistol, but for a small dart gun. The weapons manager had great pleasure in enthusiastically telling her about all the types of dart that it shot. "See, there's amnesiac in this one, and poison in this one." She nodded, obviously straining to look excited. "This one causes paralysis." He said, pointing to a green dart. "And this one has Sodium Thiopental. It causes–"

"It's a truth serum."

"Indeed, it is. I'm impressed." He caught the look of disdain that she tossed the weapons man. All agents knew what Sodium Thiopental did. Although, to be honest, she was most likely more used to desk work than anything else. She smiled at the weapons manager and carefully switched the safety on before sliding it into her bag. "Thanks." She turned back to Thompson. "Okay. Where to now?" He raised an eyebrow. "That's all you wanted?"

"I prefer non-lethal when possible. Besides, the dart gun is like carrying five types of guns at the same time."

"Whatever you want." She glared at him. He yielded. "I just thought you'd make a comment about his comment." She grinned at him. "Do you feel spurned, Agent Thompson? I can go back there and reprimand him as well, if it would make you feel better."

"You think you're cheeky."

"I know I'm cheeky." He scowled at her. "Fine. You've seen the main office already. Let's go to the Informational Operation Center."

"It sounds fascinating." She said sarcastically. He smirked. "Oh, _absolutely._" She scrunched up her face for a minute in distaste, causing him laugh silently for a short moment. "Let's go then."

* * *

_Dooley_

Dooley strode through headquarters, looking around for Agent Thompson. Matching up Agent LaBelle with her partner would have to wait. They needed to get down to Roxxon Oil, and he didn't want to be there alone. He noticed Thompson walking towards the IOC with LaBelle."Thompson! Get over here."

He waited impatiently while they made their way over to him. "We have a meeting with Hugh Jones, president of Roxxon Oil. He's got a few things to say about the implosion."

"Explosion?" LaBelle asked. "Yes, the explosion. You don't need to know about it. Let's go. LaBelle, come with us."

Thompson fell into step beside him. "I didn't think Jones would have much to say about the implosion." Agent LaBelle was trying to get his attention, repeating his name during every break in the conversation

"He doesn't yet. But he will." Thompson fell silent after that. They reached the end of the corridor and Thompson punched the call button for the elevator. "Monsieur Dooley!" LaBelle said loudly. "Yes, Agent LaBelle! What is it?" Dooley swung around and LaBelle stopped her in tracks. "You say I don't need to know about this implosion, but if I am to be of any help you will have to keep me up to date."

"You can help us just fine by taking lunch orders, but if it makes you feel better, Thompson will update you."

Thompson glared at Dooley, and began to fill her in on the situation.

* * *

Dooley strode into the room, quickly followed by Thompson and LaBelle. Hugh Jones smiled at Dooley and Thompson, and then his eyes fell onto LaBelle. "Chief Dooley and Agent Thompson. And this must be your Secretary. Pleasure to meet you, darling." Dooley looked over at LaBelle. He could see her eyes blazing with anger, so before she could answer, he did it himself.

"Yes, pleasure to meet you." Dooley glanced at LaBelle, who subsequently noticed him looking and shot him a glare. '_If looks could kill,'_ thought Dooley.

"Please, have a seat." Dooley sat down, gesturing for Thompson to do the same. He sat and they began their discussion. As they talked, he could hear LaBelle fidgeting behind him. "LaBelle!"

"Sir?"

"Get us some coffee." Jones sat up a bit straighter. "If you want coffee, sir, I can have someone bring it. No need for this beautiful young lady to wear herself out."

"Getting coffee isn't particularly trying," LaBelle said flatly. Dooley glared at her.

"Nonsense, my servants will bring it. Unless you fellows don't mind something stronger." "What did you have in mind?"

"Allow me to show you." Glasses clinked as the servant brought out a bottle of whiskey. The servant handed a glass to him and Thompson, then offered one to LaBelle.

"Non, thank you." Dooley repressed a growl as Jones' attention shifted to her. "Are you from France, Miss LaBelle?" LaBelle smiled at him sweetly. "Indeed, I am. Pardon me, I occasionally switch into French on accident."

"It's very charming, please don't worry about it."

"Thank you." Dooley ground his teeth. Jones turned his attention back to them, and they continued. "You know we used to be friends, Howard and I. Lunch at the club charity functions. To your very good health gentlemen." Dooley swirled the whiskey in his glass. "It's 10:45 in the morning."

Dooley raised an eyebrow as the servant dropped an ice cube into his whiskey. Thompson took a drink and Dooley shot him a look. Thompson quickly set it on the desk. "So what came between you and stark?" Thompson asked. "My wife."

"Bit of a jump to go from that to industrial sabotage." Dooley noted. "Not the way he does it, from what I hear."

"So it's personal? This attack?" The conversation droned on, and LaBelle wouldn't stay still. It was like a nagging tick in the back of his mind, and soon he would snap. Luckily the conversation wound down, and soon he was calling Carter. "Get down here. We need the thing for scanning Vita Radiation."

* * *

_LaBelle_

Thompson was slouched in a chair, and Dooley was leaning against the desk when she returned with the files. "As requested. All the files on employees and the Refinery."

"Good." Dooley said. "Sort through them, look for anyone who stands out."

"Oh! But Chief Dooley, I'm just a lowly secretary. I don't know what to look for." Dooley glared at her. "Fine. Thompson, help her."

Thompson glared at her, but pulled himself from the chair and went to help. She handed him half the stack and got to work. In the background she could hear Hugh Jones inquiring quietly why she was still sorting files when she herself had already stated that she was inadequate for the job. She ignored it.

"Thompson, you'll do the men." Thompson looked up. "I'm not homosexual, Dooley." Cassandra repressed a laugh.

"Get your head out of your ass and keep working, Thompson." Dooley growled at him. "I might as well do the women as well."

"It's not appropriate. Carter can scan the women while she's here." Cassandra cleared her throat loudly. "You may be a woman, LaBelle, but my guess is that you've never used one of the vita radiation scanners before."

"Well, my guess is that it isn't rocket science. I think I could figure it out."

"I don't have time to wait around." Cassandra glared at him and went back to filing, determined to do a good job.

* * *

Finally, they had finished. Van Ert was locked up in the back of the squad car, so the three of them were squashed in the front. Luckily, the car ride was short, and soon they swung into the parking lot. Quickly a squad of men took Van Ert away, and Dooley, Thompson, and Cassandra were left alone.

"I have something to tell both of you. Come up to my office." Cassandra and Thompson exchanged a look before following to the elevator. "Chief, whatever it is, just tell us now." Dooley said nothing. Cassandra crossed her arms, examining both of them in the reflective door. Dooley was staring straight ahead, as was Thompson.

The elevator dinged and they stepped out into the SSR. People watched as they passed, murmuring things to each other. Cassandra stepped into Dooley's office and closed the door behind her. "What is it, Dooley?"

"I've decided to pair the two of you together. From now on, you don't do anything separately."

"What?" Thompson said indignantly. "Why do I have to babysit her?" Cassandra glared at him. She didn't want to be stuck with him any more than he wanted to be stuck with her, but he didn't have to be such an ass about it.

"I'm awfully afraid I have to agree with Thompson. I see no point in this."

"Thompson, shut up and take it like a man. LaBelle, I don't know your skill set yet. For all I know, you could be a softy who can't take a punch."

"You want to talk about taking a punch? We can talk about–"

"Actually, Thompson and I have an interrogation to get to. You can watch the beginning."

"Fine." Cassandra opened the door and stalked from the room. She made her way to the interrogation room, yanked the door open, and slammed it closed behind her as Thompson and Dooley entered the adjoining room. She glared at the man in the chair for a while, as Dooley bargained with the man. Then, Dooley got up and left.

Cassandra stood up as Dooley entered. "Dooley, I know you may think otherwise, but there are other ways than violence to deal with this."

"Wait outside, LaBelle. You don't need to see this." Cassandra frowned, stepping outside. She leaned against a pillar, thinking. Dooley had a set way of doing things, and he needed to learn that violence wasn't the solution to all problems.

Suddenly, an idea blossomed in her mind. She took a deep breath, and reached for the interrogation room door, yanked it open, and shot Van Ert in the neck.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

In the next few moments, a myriad of things happened. Van Ert gaped at her, before plucking the dart from his neck and sliding off his chair onto the floor. She frowned. '_That's rather unusual.' _She thought

At the same time, Thompson stood from his chair with such force that it was sent sliding back a few feet. Thompson was focused on the girl, and upon how he was going to wring her sorry little neck, lady or no.

Dooley burst into the room seconds later, puffing slightly, and not having anticipated LaBelle's close proximity to the door, went hurtling into her. Both of them fell, but while Dooley fell hard at Thompson's feet, LaBelle, being much more nimble, managed to roll away from Dooley, only to slam her head hard against the wall.

Van Ert, who began to return to consciousness, slowly assessed the situation and made for the door. Thompson stepped in front of Van Ert, gun poised. "Where do you think you're going?" Thompson asked.

"I was thinking maybe Vienna." Van Ert said truthfully. That was when Thompson bludgeoned him with the barrel of his revolver and Van Ert blacked out, once again.

* * *

_LaBelle_

Cassandra had risen, holding the back of her head with one hand as she surveyed the mess before her. "I am terribly sorry about this, Chief Dooley. I merely hit him with a truth serum, Sodium Thiopental. I didn't expect for him to black out. Or for–"

"Shut it, LaBelle." Dooley's face was bright red, which was never a good sign. "You have somehow managed to mess up this entire situation within mere seconds, so I do not want to see how you could continue to do so. Go back to my office now and wait for me while I sort this out and decide what to do with you. Yauch will escort you."

"I won't leave until you promise me. No bloodshed. He'll tell you the truth now, and he won't receive a beating."

"I will not make any promises to an interpol agent. And a woman, no less! Thompson, escort her out." But Cassandra's eyes were blazing now. "What did you call me, Chief Dooley?"

"You heard me just fine LaBelle. Get out."

"I can see myself out."

"I'm not taking that risk."

"Then Thompson will be the one to… escort me, as you said."

"I need Thompson for this interrogation." LaBelle smirked. "Oh yes, I know that." She could tell Dooley felt like screaming, and she wasn't about to apologize for anything. She hadn't exactly grown fond of Dooley in her first six hours at the SSR. "Fine. Just go. Thompson, stick to her like glue."

Cassandra strutted out the door, knowing all too well that Dooley would most likely proceed with the interrogation as he saw fit, even if Miles Van Ert was jacked up on truth serum. She felt remarkably calm, considering the fact that she was most likely going to be deported back to France.

She sat in a hard backed chair in front of Dooley's desk, arms folded neatly in her lap. The green wallpaper and bright lights did nothing for her spinning head. Thompson chose to sit, perched on the corner of Dooley's desk, arms crossed. They sat in silence for several minutes until Cassandra spoke. "Well, I really screwed things up."

"Yes, you did."

"But," he groaned. "you have to admit that what I did was the right thing." He sighed, sliding off the desk and standing in front of her arms crossed as per usual. "If you want to fit in here, then you have to get used to the way things are done. You won't change anything, and you aren't making any friends trying."

"What if I don't want to fit in?"

"Everyone wants to fit in."

"The people who would rather fit in than fix stupid mistakes are fools and cowards." He shot her a venomous look. "I suggest you reserve judgement on strangers until you know them." He refused to say anything more to her until Dooley returned, and she didn't press him.

Dooley barged into the office an hour later, obviously frustrated. His face was beet red, and he was perspiring profusely. He seemed to deflate as he remembered that they were there. "Oh, you. Let's get this over with."

"And here I thought you were just going to fire me."

"I have a strange feeling that firing you would be pointless, seeing as you don't work for me."

"What would ever give you that impression?"

"I have had, however, enough of your lip. You may be from Interpol, but right now you're a SSR agent, and I have authority over your actions. You're here to help us, and so far all you have done is hinder us.

So, as punishment, I am going to swamp you in paperwork. When you prove you can handle all that exciting paperwork, you can begin to go on with Thompson on some… field trips." She let out a short sigh. "Fine. As I am sure you will not waver on this, I accept these terms."

"I wasn't asking for you to get used to it, I was telling you to get used to it. You can start by helping Sousa search for this rogue milkman."

"I don't think that will be necessary chief."

"What the hell does that mean Thompson? And what is that tapping?" Thompson pointed to the door, where Daniel Sousa was idling awkwardly outside. Agent Krzeminski was by his side tapping on the glass incessantly.

"I found the milkman!" He shouted through the glass.

Dooley and Thompson both beelined for the door, with Cassandra trailing behind them. The five of them slowly gathered a large procession of people, demanding information. Dooley shooed them all away, stepping into the elevator as they dispersed. "That means you too Labelle. You aren't exempt from orders because you're from Interpol."

The doors began to slip closed, but Cassandra stopped them. "Please, just this once chief? Before I get stuck in desk work? You won't know I'm there."

"Fine, hurry up. We want to get there before someone else does."

* * *

Cassandra let out a deep sigh. Being squished in the back of a squad car with a very overweight milkman on one side, and a door on the other, was not how she thought she would be spending this evening.

"I used to strap a chair to my ass," Dooley was saying, "and take long walks around the neighborhood too."

She just barely made out the sound of Thompson stifling a laugh. "We know who you are Mr. Mcafee. We were just on our way to pay you a visit."

"So, who did this to you?" Dooley asked. "Was it Leet Brannis? We know he paid you off to use the truck."

"You're in deep water," Thompson supplied. "I'd take the life preserver if I was you." There was a long silence, then Mcafee spoke. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"We'll keep an open mind."

"Okay, then. A woman came to my house. Must've broken in somehow. She had brown hair, brown eyes. Woulda been cute, if she hadn't been threatening me."

"Any defining features?" The man turned to look at LaBelle. "She was around five feet five inches tall, big knockers. Other than that, no." Cassandra turned away to hide her disgust. "We'll be formally interrogating you later, of course, Mr. Mcafee." Dooley was fully ready to reprimand her for interfering with SSR workings when a gargantuan explosion of water and light appeared a ways ahead of them. They all shielded their eyes, all except for Mcefee, naturally. "Thompson, step on it."

* * *

The cold night air bit at Cassandra's face and legs, and she had to tread carefully to avoid stepping on a rock and busting her ankle. Pumps were by no means her favorite type of shoe.

Dooley leaned over the body, shifting in the fine dust to get a closer look. "The woman was here. She was with him until he died." Standing opposite him, LaBelle raised an eyebrow. "How can you tell?"

"She moved around in one spot quite a bit here. She must have been there for a while." LaBelle bent down to inspect the body as Dooley stood up. "What the hell is Sousa doing? Oy, Sousa!" Next to the body, some of the sand was fanned out strangely, as if someone had been trying to cover something up or erase something.

"Dooley, come look at this." To her surprise, Dooley turned and squatted down to look at her find. "There was something written here. One of them wiped it out."

"Fat lot of good it does us now, LaBelle. Get back to the car."

"But sir, look here. That means he told her something. Maybe they were working together."

* * *

_Hey again guys! I know I promised weekly updates, but honestly it's been hard to keep up. I have several stories in rotation, and I've been neglecting too many of them so I took some time to catch up. As always, please review, because any feedback rally helps me out!_


End file.
